Five for Forever (12 page)

A moment of rustling and a hiss, then Rick came on the line. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” Louise said.

There was a moment of silence between them, as both were looking for an appropriate thing to say. In the background, Louise could hear Britta calling, “Dad, that is the most awkward silence since the invention of the fart cushion!”

“Give me a moment here, guys, and some privacy,” Rick shouted. And then to Louise, “Kids, an acute sense of truth and wisdom.”

“Have we already run out of things to talk about?” Louise asked.

“Not on your life. But . . . well, to be honest, I was too shy to call you and ask for a second date,” Rick admitted.

“No problem. I understand the situation we are in. And in full disclosure, I had made a list of things to impress my new date, you, in the future, to win you over. And then discovered that it is not doable. You are the first person I have met that has this focus on family and no backup like ex-wife, au pair, or nanny.”

“What was on that list? Give me an idea of what I’ll miss?”

“Musical trip to New York later this month? Horse riding on my best friend’s ranch in Arizona? Or join me on my Austin trip this weekend.”

“The kids would love to do this, I am sure.”

Louise sighed. “See, that’s what I mean: focus on the family.”

“Why . . . ?” Rick was confused. “Ah, I see, you mean us two on a getaway, without kids. My heart is racing to think about these things; you might give me a heart attack by planning.”

“After the win-you-over part, we can see to how much luxury and lifestyle-of-the-rich-and-famous you want to expose your kids to. But first I need to win you over. Right?”

“I hate to say it, but yes,” Rick admitted.

“What is your Plan B, now that the family stands in the way?” Rick asked.

Agnes yelled from the background, “We are not standing in your way. Say yes to anything she proposes!”

Rick whispered back, shielding the microphone, “Trip to Austin next weekend.”

“Sweet! South by Southwest,” Britta beamed. “The kids would like that!” Agnes said loudly, and there were consenting noises from the others.

Louise laughed out loud. “I heard that.”

Rick sighed. “Ignore them. Find something local. What about we go out sailing on the Flints’ very own yacht? I’ll rig it up, and you bring the picnic basket.”

“You have a boat? And I thought I could impress you with mine.”

“I am a boatbuilder, so of course I have a boat! Twenty feet, made of wood, of course.”

“I can only do Thursday or Sunday.”

“We need to sail during daylight, so I’ll cut Thursday’s work time short. Can you be at the shipyard around 2:00 p.m.?”

“Deal. It’s a second date!”

The second date became the perfect date. The weather was sunny and a bit chilly. A light wind made sailing easy and didn’t stress the crew, made up of Louise and Rick. Louise had her wig and sunshades for the part that took place in the harbor but otherwise had dressed practically for the occasion, with wider slacks, a warm sweater, and a windbreaker. After they left Oxnard Yacht Harbor with the help of a little motor, they expertly set sail and were off.

“What’s the name of the boat?” Louise asked while she took off her wig and began reapplying sunscreen.

“Harrison.”

“Harrison Ford?”

“No, after our first and only dog. A retriever. We bought him after Agnes was born, and he died of old age when Agnes was about twelve. By that time I had finished building the boat. Agnes baptized it and had a say in the naming.”

“It’s roomy—the deck is quite wide. Room to sit, room to sunbathe. I like the small platform thingy in the back that makes it easy to climb in and out of the water.”

“Well, I had intended to build a racing boat, but Bella convinced me to make it a family boat instead. Room for five people in the cockpit and five beds below for overnights were the core design requirements.”

“Hang on! Four kids and two grown-ups makes five? What kind of builder are you?”

“Good with math but bad in precaution. Dana was an unplanned latecomer.”

“So I am now the sixth wheel that breaks the capacity again?”

“Should it ever come to that, we can cuddle up. Dana doesn’t need much room.”

“I was afraid that you had named your boat after your wife. I would have felt awkward sailing on her, being on a date with you. The Jaipur syndrome.”

“Don’t touch the paint—the name sign is still wet. No, seriously, it was briefly under discussion, but it was the goldfish that was christened Bella.”

“How long did that one live? A year, two?”

“Forever,” Rick said with conviction.

“No goldfish lives forever.”

“This one does. As I am first one up in the morning, I can immediately spot an overnight demise, run over to the neighbor, and borrow a new one. We are a well-oiled team by now, and he always has spares. I think Dana and Charles still believe in the eternal goldfish named Bella, Britta does not seem to care, and Agnes knows, of course.”

“Now, that is a fantastic story that only happens in real families!”

“Take care of your sail, foreman!” Rick said, pointing at the flapping foresail. Louise pulled it closer.

“It includes so many typical family things,” she continued. “Taking good care of memories, making sure no one needs to cry over a dead goldfish, a little mythical immortality of the deceased mother sprinkled in.”

“Make a movie out of it?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. It’s more like one of those tidbits that make a movie adorable, authentic.”

“Are you making movies?”

“Proud majority shareholder of Waterstone Films. I’ve been coproducing films for a while now, and it’s fun to bring a project to life. But I’ve never been part of the creative process. I’ve never written a script in my life.”

“That’s what I like about my job. It is the complete project from A to Z. I doodle on a napkin, and a year later the boat is in the water. Well, mostly.”

“The
Harrison
took you one year to build?”

“No, this was a private side project, which I intentionally did all by myself. A little over three years. The kids were small then, and the project was my excuse to have time on my own. Sometimes Agnes would come along and ride the bicycle in the yard.”

After an hour of sailing, they took down the sails and had a leisurely late lunch/early dinner on the forward sundeck. Louise had brought along a very authentic-looking picnic basket, and Rick found some blankets in the cabin. The sun was already low on the horizon and not too strong yet in early April. Louise had prepared a mix of sandwiches—“I made them myself—just sent the maid to buy the ingredients, honestly!”—and they continued to talk about their lives.

“I remember reading in some magazine story that you still have parents, right?” Rick asked.

“Yes and no and maybe,” Louise said. “My mother is alive but drank her brain away: long-term alcohol abuse. She’s in a retirement home, one thing my money can buy, and doesn’t really recognize anyone anymore, even the staff. The mother in her is long dead, and I don’t visit anymore. I never knew my biological father and my stepfather walked away shortly before I left home, too. He was an okay guy but couldn’t take my mother’s drinking. I have one sister; she’s living in a trailer park, heavy issues with alcohol and substance abuse. I only help her with an occasional therapy but never directly with money. That’s why I am teatotaller; the whole alcohol thing makes me nervous.”

“You sound so detached,” Rick said.

She shrugged. “Time heals a lot, and I’ve made peace with my ghosts over the years. What about your parents?”

“Alive but no longer kicking. My father is slowly drifting away with Alzheimer’s, and my mother has all these age-related things; she’s become very slow. They live in Florida. We call and visit now and then. Bella has a sister somewhere in the Chicago area, but we’ve met exactly twice: once for the marriage and once for the funeral. No parents anymore on her side. So we are not a big family—yet. By the time I turn sixty-four, I expect an explosion of grandkids.”

“Tell me about your kids,” Louise asked. “I met them only once but little Dana already made a great impression on me.”

“Josh told me that you usually don’t care for kids,” Rick said.

“True. Usually I find them annoying. Especially when they are child actors, spoiled brats of fellow actors, or little obnoxious divas. But yours seem—I don’t know—serious. And normal.”

“I hope that isn’t bad. Kids shouldn’t be serious; they should be carefree and happy. But you’re right—they’re holding up pretty well. No drugs, no crime, no sex. I hope.”

“I know, of course, that Agnes is the oldest. And she seems to be the leader of the pack. When they were all excited at the set visit, it was her little glances or gestures that made the others cool it down a bit. Even your rebel daughter, Britta, seemed to heed her command.”

“If you ever wonder what Bella looked like when I first met her, have a look at Agnes. She’s a dead ringer. When I look at photos, sometimes only the date stamp tells me who it is I’m looking at. And you’re right, she is the master and commander, but in an unobtrusive way. I don’t know what I would have done without her after Bella died. Although she’ll claim otherwise, I think she lost most of her teen years and became an adult at fifteen. First, Bella’s pregnancy with Dana was pretty rough and had her in bed for weeks. Then the accident changed everything. A pretty tough development for a teen who should be worrying about which boy to date or which shoes to buy next.”

“Seems you worry a lot about your kids.”

“I used to be more easygoing. Bella was the cautious type. I’d say, ‘Let the kid climb the tree!’ Bella would say, ‘Oh no, she might fall and be crippled for life!’ After Bella was gone, I took over the role of the cautious one, and Agnes became the one who dared her siblings to try new things.”

“Good cop, bad cop. What are her plans? She’s in her junior year of high school?”

“Yeah. We’re in the process of selecting colleges. She is brooding over the general direction, not her usual decisive self.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to leave you guys?”

“I’ve heard that argument. We still have some time though.”

“Then there is Britta, hiding behind her mountain of curls . . .”

Rick laughed. “And bad mood and manners. Thirteen and doing everything to annoy me. Well, not everything. But over the last year she’s become complicated. More complicated than I remember Agnes being at that age. Man, we’ve been in shouting matches recently.”

“With Agnes growing up too soon, Britta is the first real teenager you’re experiencing,” Louise said and unwrapped another sandwich.

“Yeah, but Britta is trying too hard. Charles still sees her as the kid, and simply ignores her drama. But our life together somehow works—she adores her smaller siblings.”

“Interesting dynamics. Charles . . . now wait a second! All your kids are named alphabetically. Was that planned?”

“Agnes and Britta, no. Agnes was my mother-in-law’s name. She died shortly before Agnes’s birth. Britta was Bella’s grandmother’s name. Austrian, I think. But after two Bella-driven names, I had the right to pick name number three. And Charles it was. And then with number four announcing herself, Bella had to fall in line. Otherwise she was afraid to explain to
Joanne
why she was not following the pattern of her siblings.”

“That is a little crazy. Like in the seventies, the people who gave their kids numbers as names to break convention.”

“I am pretty sure that by now good old 56229 has had her name legally changed to Joan.”

“Right, she had always been confused with the ZIP code and was annoyed by all the misrouted mail she received.”

Rick laughed so hard that he got bread crumbs in his lungs, so he had to cough for a few minutes until everything was clear again. “There she is, Louise Waters, comedian.”

Louise crinkled her nose and stopped hitting Rick’s back. “Yeah, it breaks through sometimes. Charles is the only boy; how does he do among the girls?”

“That is a little hard to explain. He is the most intelligent human being I’ve ever met. He knows things, whereas I think, I am almost fifty and have no idea about this. How does he? The craziest stuff in all detail. He re-creates experiments he reads about in journals, either at home or at school. The physics and chemistry teachers trust him with the keys to the labs.”

“That is amazing. Have you had him tested?”

“Yes, after Bella died, and Charles turned weird. He was seven at the time, and suddenly became hyperactive, moody, always behind books, listening to radio programs, not talking much. I thought it was due to his mother’s death—that he was hiding behind some sort of self-made shell. The doctor did some tests. She had a suspicion that he might have some mild form of Asperger’s or autism, but he is socially fully adept, so that was quickly discarded. He simply had started learning, and he is simply super-intelligent.”

“Learning at an incredible speed.”

“That is the word, incredible. The doctor explained to me that Charles has questions that the people around him can’t answer, questions whose answers can only be discovered by himself on a journey that is his, and only his. He is alone in this gigantic cathedral of his mind, trying to build as he goes, filling it up.” A tear ran down Rick’s cheek.

“Are you crying? Over your son’s gift? We should change the topic! I can repeat the ZIP code joke if you like,” Louise was aghast. She had never seen a man cry before. Not even at the Hollywood funerals she had been to. Especially not at the Hollywood funerals.

“Sorry, talking about some aspects of my life scares me. I have a son who is here, but also on a whole different intellectual level. We play ball like father and son, which he enjoys. He joins us for trips, shopping, or movies, but I always feel like he is somewhere else.” He took the napkin, wiped away the tears, and cleared his running nose. “Almost done, sorry. You should have seen me watching
Titanic
.”

“Don’t excuse yourself for loving your kids. Where will Charles end up in life, you think?” Louise was fascinated.